


daylight took your body

by trite



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Comes Back Wrong, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, F/M, Post-Canon, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trite/pseuds/trite
Summary: Once the celebration starts to die down, Finn finds her on the edges of the camp.
Relationships: Finn/Rey (Star Wars)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	daylight took your body

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Came Back Wrong + Sex Pollen combo. So more like, Came Back Sex Pollened. Mind the tags, etc.

Once the celebration starts to die down, Finn finds her on the edges of the camp. She’s sitting cross-legged on the ground on top of a thin brown blanket. There’s a faraway, vacant look on her face.

“Rey?” Finn asks.

She turns to him, but her gaze lands somewhere past his shoulder. He looks back but there is nothing there beyond the distant cluster of lanterns coming from outside the tents.

“Are you okay?” he asks. She looks hollow, worn-down. _In shock_. He had seen that look among troopers when they took off their helmets after missions. Like their eyes were still playing catch up with what they had seen.

“I felt something,” she says but doesn’t elaborate.

When he sits down next to her on the ground, she moves closer and makes their arms brush together. Her eyes clear a little and she focuses on him, like she’s truly seeing him. “What were you going to tell me? What you said— earlier.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know how to say it now. Doesn’t know why he thought it was so important to say it _then_. It felt big and suffocating to keep it to himself; he wanted to connect it to her somehow. Make it easier to get, to carry. “I— when you, how did it feel at first? The Force?”

She turns to look at the sky, the explosion of stars covering it, sheltering them. “Like I was stumbling, falling and then finding, miraculously, solid ground.”

He stares at her profile, the exhaustion reflected on her features. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean.”

She turns to look at him, intently, and her eyes widen a little. Some color returns to her face, even in the dim moonlight he can see that. She looks vibrant, something alive inside her. _She died_ , he reminds himself. He felt it. Like a physical ache, worse. “I see it,” she says and reaches out to touch his face.

Her fingertips move over his left eyebrow, trace the bridge of his nose and then flutter over his lips. She frowns and moves closer, replacing her fingers with her lips. It’s brief and chaste, just a moment of pressure against his lips before she jumps back and says, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I—”

A brief flash of pain crosses her features and she gasps, doubles over in pain for a moment before shakily sitting upright.

“What is it? Rey, tell me.” He wants to reach out, but her body language is erecting a solid barrier between them, making him aware that right now proximity would not be welcome.

“I don’t know. When I came back, from— after I died, something happened to me. I felt this need to chase life, to consume it, make it a part of myself. I— it faded, but now I don’t—” She breathes out, closes her eyes, and clenches her hands. “It wants to claw out of my body.”

He looks at her, at her silhouette almost melting with the darkness rapidly taking over the night. “How can I help? Rey, what do you need?”

She looks away, then looks back at him quickly. “I want— I want you to come closer.”

He moves in front of her, emulating her pose and their knees knock together. She darts out her hand and grips his tightly, painfully. “I didn’t want it to happen like this,” she says and rises on her knees, hovers over him for a second before their lips connect. He opens his mouth to her, their lips fitting together perfectly.

When she moves her knees to each side of his hips, sitting astride him, he moves his hands to her waist, trying to stop her, anchor her, slow them down. “Wait. Rey, hang on. Is this what you want? What you need?”

There’s a difference between both things. The way he wants her — the way he loves her has never felt dangerous like the energy coming off of her in waves.

“Yes, yes.” Her words offer no clarification. She fists her hands on his shirt, pulling him closer and then pushing him back, following his downward trajectory. She presses him against the ground, against her body. She tears her mouth away and breathlessly says, “I can— are you okay with—? I can go somewhere else. I—”

“I want to help you. Whatever helps you is okay. Do you want to go and—?”

“It’d be better with you.” She says it like her words go somewhere beyond fact. Like it’s a reality they’ve lived and can’t question.

He runs his hands down her back and feels her imperceptibly shake against his touch, holding back. “Okay, okay.” He’s not certain they should do this, but he’s certain that he doesn’t want her to be in pain, possessed by this energy that’s engulfing her. He can almost see it; something treacherous and all-consuming. He wants it away from her, from them, from this place.

She moves against him and gasps, does it again, and guides his hand to the front of her leggings. She bears down on his hand, maintaining eye contact, and when he nods she does it again.

He presses the heel of his palm steadily against her cunt, through her clothes, and she grinds on it until her body spasms against him. She rests her forehead on his shoulder and pants openmouthed on his skin.

There’s a noise in his ears, deafening. A buzz threatening to come near him and pull him under, but shying away every time he opens his eyes. He looks down at her, at the dark clouds that clear before shadowing her gaze once more.

Rey moves her fingers under his shirt and asks, “can I?” Her breath comes out shuddery and when he raises his arms and allows her to remove the shirt, he shivers as well. He feels her hands move over his chest, down his shoulders. She presses the pads of her fingers over the expanse of his back, digs into his skin as she pulls him closer.

She places one hand on his neck and one on the small of his back and he feels almost as lost as she sounds when she says, “touch me.” He wonders if she can physically feel his thundering pulse under her fingertips.

He lifts her tunic and traces the waistband of her leggings, pausing until she raises her hips so he can peel them down her legs.

She sighs loudly and goosebumps appear on her skin as the cold air of the night reaches her. He wants to cover her with his body and offer her some warmth but instead moves until he’s between her spread legs, carefully touching the elastic of her underwear.

She grips his wrist and he stills his hands, feels his shoulders tense, but she moves his hand under and lower until the tip of his fingers brush against her, slide inside her and she answers with a full-body shudder and a gasp reaches his ears, lodges in his brain.

“Like this?” he asks, trying to sound confident; less out of a desire to impress her and more to reassure her than he can do this.

Despite how it feels, it wasn’t long ago that she was a stranger he wanted to impress. _A big deal_. This is a big deal. The way he feels about her is a big deal, he thinks, turning to look up at the expanse of her body; at the beautiful night around them, the glowing stars, the luminescent beetles making the trees glow and providing a golden light that shades them from the darkness.

“Just like that,” she says, following the movement of his fingers with the impatient sway of her hips, guiding him faster and deeper inside her. “I love—” She breaks off to moan and the brief pause makes him imagine a million endings to that sentence. It means he gets the answer somewhat right when she finishes with _it_ on a long, loud breath.

He can feel the pleasure coming off her in waves, the edgy, shadowy energy taking longer to resurface. There’s a bright buzz within her calling him to her, making him almost drown in her sensations. He is hard inside his pants, the fabric feeling restrictive, but feels hesitant to undress further.

She falls apart on his fingers once and then again; slick warmth and heat around him. After the second time, she pulls on his shoulder until he leans over her and then slants their lips together, unhurried but deep. Something passes between beyond words: _recognition_. Something forged out of a genuine connection. It feels lasting and it gives Finn hope that when this is done, they can work past it, work through it, come out of the other side whole.

He kisses his way up her inner thigh, hovers his mouth between her legs, lets his warm breath reach her until she’s lifting her hips, searching for friction.

He sinks his fingers inside her and licks around them, the flat of his tongue pressing over the hood of her clit. He lets her encouragement through the Force guide him, making him feel less blind in the infringing darkness that surrounds them.

He feels her tremble as he crooks his fingers to the second knuckle. She lets out a loud gasp and her back arches up from the blanket underneath her, her fingers scrabbling for purchase, as she comes.

He grasps her thigh, moves his hand so that his thumb fits behind her knee, and raises her leg against his body.

She pulls him between her thighs and wraps her legs around him, bring his hips to hers until there’s nowhere closer for them to get.

Everywhere they’re not touching feels numb compared to the electricity between their bodies.

“Finn,” she gasps. The haze is gone from her eyes; the cold energy enveloping her has disappeared. Her body is warm and she is fever-flushed. It’s Rey — it’s just the two of them. She’s gazing at him and brings their foreheads together, her palm carefully cupped on the side of his face.

When their lips meet he feels something push against his ribs from the inside; a yearning, for her, for what they could’ve had, for what he hopes they can still have.

He finds her on the Falcon the next day, the weak early morning sun not burning where it reaches them. “You’re leaving?”

She tenses but slowly turns around. “I’m going to Tatooine. I am going to bury the Skywalker lightsabers.” Rey looks away, toward the horizon, past the imposing trees that sheltered them or trapped them last night, and adds, “it’s important I do this.”

He knows, knows how important this is to her, to her journey. “You want company?”

“No, I must do this alone,” she says in a rush. More sedately, she adds, “I will return in a couple of days, anyway.”

He nods readily but feels a crushing weight on his chest, splintering something inside it. “Okay, yeah. I get it. Rey—”

When Beebee rushes past him, he jumps back and Rey takes the opportunity to walk further into the ship. “I’m sorry, Finn,” she says before turning around and closing the hatch.

_Maybe Jedis measure time differently_ , he amuses himself thinking, after two weeks go by with Rey gone. It’s not funny or sensible, he feels the Force within him counting down every second, every inch that marks her distance.

When he reaches the command center, Zorii is talking to Poe in a hushed, but business-like tone. Nothing personal, so he doesn’t mind walking in.

“—in an escape pod, apparently,” she says, her elbows braced on her knees, her voice grave.

“Huh, can’t keep him down, I guess,” Poe says with a weak, tired laugh. “Is he— I mean, what do you know—?”

“He’s recuperating, apparently. I could go check if the intel is good.”

“No, I got this. I can— oh hey, buddy,” Poe says when he spots him.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He turns to Zorii and says cryptically, “thank you. And pass my gratitude along to your source.” A beat, an unvoiced question. “If you see her again.”

“We’ll see.” Zorii stands up to leave and nods to Finn. “Let me know if you want me involved,” she says when she’s at the door.

“What was that about? Trouble?” Finn doesn’t know what’s worse, constantly expecting trouble, or the idea that it has already come knocking.

Poe furrows his brow and bites his lip, lost in thought for a second. “Maybe,” he says before turning to give Finn his full attention. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

Finn sits down across from him and sees the concern in Poe’s face increase, so he stops stalling. “Have you heard from Rey?”

Poe leans backs on the chair. “She’s in Tatooine. Jedi business. Right?” he asks slowly, his features reflecting the same fear that Finn feels about this respite from war suddenly disappearing.

“Yeah, but she’s been gone for a couple of weeks now. And I—”

“You think she’s in danger? You think Palpatine has somehow returned? Again?” Poe asks with a laugh, but it comes out more panicked than amused.

“No, no, she’s okay. But when she left—” Finn pauses and doesn’t know how to continue. Even if he knew how to explain it, it wouldn’t be his place. He knows Rey would not want that. “I haven’t spoken to her.”

“Oh, not even—?” Poe says, waving a hand around his temples in his familiar gesture for ‘communication via the Force.’

Finn can feel her, feel her presence like a beacon burning bright, calling to him. It’s how he knows she’s safe, it’s that reassurance that’s kept him away. He hasn’t tried to contact her through the Force, though. Doesn’t think it would be welcome and he wants to respect that. “No, I don’t— I haven’t.”

Poe stares at him for a long moment before saying, “you could go there.” He nods to himself a little like he’s validating his own suggestion or maybe coming to a decision. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Finn loves him and trusts him with more than his life, but he can’t ambush Rey like this. “No, I don’t think that’s—”

As if reading his mind and understanding his hesitation, he says, “I’ll drop you there. I have something to do in the area anyway.”

“In the area?”

Poe shrugs and waves a hand casually. “In the general area.” Then makes a face and amends, “on the way.”

Poe and his mysteries. Finn will find out later.

Once they reach Tatooine, Poe squints at the sun and reflexively shields his face before saying, “are you going back with Rey on the _Falcon_ or do you need me to pick you up?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to cut your super-secret rendezvous short on my account.”

Poe laughs, but once again refuses to volunteer information. “I’m just visiting an old friend. I’ll tell you when I come back.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I’ll be fine.”

Before leaving, Poe says with concern evident in his words, even though Finn didn’t share any details, “make sure she’s okay. And if she wants, bring her home.”

“Yeah, you too,” Finn says unthinkingly. It’s only later that he realizes that his words didn’t make any sense. They had felt like the right thing to say, in any case.

When he finds her, she’s surrounded by sand, like the first time they met. He sees them in his mind in a planet full of life, vibrant foliage and greenery all around them. He wonders if they’ll reach that place.

“Rey,” he calls to her.

She doesn’t pause the wide arch she’s drawing in the humid air with her saber or deactivate it. She remains battle-ready. “I knew you would come.”

Finn approaches, more certain now. She could’ve left. “Did you want me to?”

She deactivates the blade of her lightsaber and says, “we have to face the things that scare us.”

He feels something burning in his chest at the thought that that has been what he’s become to her. Something so different from what she represents to him. It’s a comfort to see her.

When she turns away, he follows.

They sit on the ramp of the _Falcon_. The closer she is in proximity to the ship the less she looks out of place. He wishes that they weren’t surrounded by burning, unwelcoming sand.

“I’m sorry,” she says, not for the first time. She swallows and clenches her jaw. “I couldn’t control it. Finn, I never wanted to— I never wanted to do that to you.” Her words come out hurried and desperate but Finn would patiently wait for her.

The physical space between them feels infinite, but her presence wraps itself around him in a comforting way. “I know. I know you, Rey. I know that wasn’t — anything you would have chosen.”

He’s careful with his words. He knows neither of them wanted it like that, but Rey is fine and whole next to him and _that_ he can’t regret.

Rey nods a little to herself. “I’m sorry I just left without making things right between us. That was cowardly,” she says with self-reproach. “I wasn’t sure there was even a way to make it right. I didn’t want to force my presence on you.”

He wants to say that forcing a distance between them felt worse.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’ve missed you. I don’t— I came here for you. I trust you,” Finn says, willing her to understand.

“And you can. You can trust me. I will never let anything like that happen again. I will never, Finn. Never.” She says it with bone-deep conviction. Like she would sooner die than let it happen.

Finn doesn’t need her words; he can sense it, her determination coming off of her in waves. Almost reaching him.

“I missed you too. It was difficult to stay away,” she says, her words warm him more than the unrelenting sun above them.

“Let’s go home, then. Come back home with me.” He extends his hand and her touch jolts him awake, suffusing his body with hope. With the idea of tomorrow.


End file.
